Unspoken
by indelible
Summary: He thought that the host club would never survive. [Kyouya introspection] KyouyaTamaki friendship, vague KyouyaHaruhi.


**Unspoken**

_Tell men of high condition _

_That manage the estate, _

_Their purpose is ambition, _

_Their practice only hate: _

_And if they make reply, _

_Then give them all the lie. _

**-The Lie,** Sir Walter Raleigh

---

You hate this feeling.

You hate not knowing what to say and how to say it, hate the fact that your mind is a chaotic blank and your mouth is drier than the Sahara itself, because there are some things you do not trust yourself enough to say the right thing.

There are some things you can _never_ say to someone, something like how you feel; there are two things that tear you apart: the things you want to say and the things you need to say. Choosing between the two is like choosing between the one you love and the one who loves you; both options have consequences which make it harder for you to decide.

This is a weakness, your mind says. This is a weakness in character and spirit and mental health, and it demeans you more because you have always been strong.

There is this strange burning in your throat, and it is not the tea you have just sipped.

You wonder why it is so.

---

Sometimes you think that if you had not met Suou Tamaki, you never would have had to complicate your life. Rather, _he_ complicated your life.

You had one goal before: to get better. And it was already a part of your life even before you were aware that it existed. You supposed it came naturally to you; being born the youngest out of four children made it hard to catch your father's attention, and it was tiring to exceed the expectations of your father, but you loved to wipe those smug smirks off your brothers' faces every time you did something practically ingenious. Your sister's reaction was somewhat strange, since she only doted on you more and looked at you like you were still a young boy (fact) that didn't care about what your family thought (not true).

Seeking power was a drug. It had once been attention that you wanted, but gradually you came to appreciate something far more selfish and evil; you knew that power was ultimately the downfall of many great men, but you were stubborn, and hell-bent on proving that _you_ would be the exception to the rule.

_Foolish boy_, you imagined your conscience tell you, _what have you done to yourself?_

You could blame your family and your name, but, in the end, it would still be your fault that you had been turned into a corporate drone.

The heavy burden of dominance would probably fall on one of your brothers' shoulders, and it might have been a relief, but you could imagine the bitter taste of that loss grip your whole body and squeeze too tightly for comfort. Either way, you didn't want to let it go.

You couldn't.

---

You suppose that joining the host club was a cancer, a fatal mistake.

Your only comfort is the knowledge that, after graduation, the host club will not survive.

---

_You'll get used to it_, Tamaki tells you, and you wonder why you trust that blonde idiot's everything-will-be-okay grin.

You roll your eyes and stare at the blue sky. It is clear and peaceful, unlike your mind. There are no clouds out, but you can still see the nimbus clouds in your brain, can imagine smoke and gas mingling, rising up into the air, and beckoning you to look at them until you can feel tears in the corner of your eyes. You lift your glasses up into the sky and check the lenses.

It disturbs you, however, that you really believe him.

At least you aren't losing sleep over it.

That night, you dream of a dark sky and gold weaving into black, like sunlight peering shyly from behind a dark curtain.

It feels strangely comforting, somehow.

---

You learn quickly, you know. And Tamaki knows that too, so he makes sure to consult you first before doing anything, but, after a while, you get tired of it and resort to leaving subtle hints about themes and the like. You have more pressing matters to attend to, like the club's account and publicity.

This is your forte. This is what you were born to do.

Business is still business, though, so it loses some of its fun, sometimes.

---

One of these days, you'll have to lock yourself in the club room alone before you push a certain idiot off the building.

All you can do for now is sigh.

_Two years to go_, you think. _Just two more._

Hunny gazes at you and asks, very calmly, "But why do you feel like you would eventually regret it?"

You blink at him, and frown.

But he is walking away from you, plucking out the petals of a random flower he picked out of the vase, and it reminds you of a funeral march, slow and strangely hauntingly tranquil.

You purse your lips and concentrate on other things.

Mitsukuni Haninozuka can be quite intimidating, if he wants to. It would be best if you did not make him an enemy of yours.

But, in retrospect, the thought of doing so has never occurred to you, not even once.

---

Maybe- just maybe, you sometimes thought- they choose to give you the management duties because they feel sorry for the poor girls (rich, pretty girls who have money to waste and time to drop by the Music Room; girls who in your eyes look like money transactions and bank accounts with beautiful hair and hands that have never seen a single hardship in life).

It does not bother you.

You wonder if your speculation is true.

---

Fujioka Haruhi walks into the club room one day, and your eyes narrow a little.

It excites you to know that you are probably the only one who knows Haruhi for what he- _she_- really is. So you don't tell them.

You could use the time to enjoy yourself and laugh at the others.

You give them all a few hours, except for Tamaki.

You give him a whole week to find out.

---

It takes him less than one day.

Still the last person to know, though.

Lucky bastard.

---

It is graduation, and you watch Hunny and Mori and the other seniors throw their academic caps in the air, the silk threads of the tassel falling downwards in slow motion. You watch them cry and laugh and yell and _live_, and you wonder if this is what it will be like when you graduate.

You remember a time when you hoped that the host club would not see the light of day once you left Ouran, but now you find yourself holding on to a blind hope that everything would still be the same, even if you are now losing two of your friends to university.

Beside you, Haruhi looks at you and nods.

You know that she understands. And Tamaki does too, even if he hasn't said it out loud yet, because you can see him smiling even if he wants to cry.

The things that matter are sometimes left unspoken, after all.

You smile.

---

END.

---

Finally, the flashfic is done. x.x


End file.
